Hope the Matchseller

Summary: A retelling of Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl. Hope is a homeless teen at Christmastime. The cold cannot chase away her dreams.

Chapter 1

Sometimes
the dreams she dreamed were too happy for her circumstances and when
she awoke she would pinch herself to remember it wasn't real. The
coldness of the hour and the beginning sunlight of the morning didn't
match the warmth of her dreams.

She
would see the tree today at the soup kitchen. At fourteen, she was
tall and slender. Each day she would carefully walk with the crowds
to Good Samaritan Social Hall where the homeless people got their
only dependable meal of the day. If she was lucky, she could find
something to take, something to sell. The hall was decorated for
Christmas. It was a dazzling sight. The artificial limbs were green
as grass and the bulbs shined as balls of silver, red and green the
colors of Christmas not of plastic. The white lights were warm –
warm like a house made out of wood, not a dumpster made from metal.
Under the artificial tree was a well-worn stable with a plastic Mary
and Joseph and baby Jesus. Hope smiled. Baby Jesus was poor like her.
If God was poor, Hope thought there was no shame in being poor.

Today
was the happiest she had been in a long time, since her Mom and Dad
had died. Oh how she longed to see them again! Hope wiped away the
tears. Then she noticed the matches. She glanced around to see if
anybody would notice. Since nobody ever noticed her, she took the
matches. Quickly she moved out of the hall. She felt that someone
would buy them. She made her way through the thick crowds of people
on the street, and a band was playing a Christmas song somewhere
nearby for she could hear it. Many shoppers were descending on the
shops that afternoon. Christmas day was very close.

Hope
made her way down the alley were she slept. She didn’t like to go
all the way down for some other homeless people were there. She
crawled under the dumpster where she slept. She had a shoe box that
was where she kept her most important things. It contained a picture
of Mama and Daddy.

Hope
took out the matches from her pocket and stared at them. The wooden
sticks had slivers hanging out and the red top had a delicate feel.
She carefully put the matches inside her coat pocket. Then she
straightened her hair as best she could, and took her toothbrush out
of another box, and brushed her teeth. She had to look good in order
to sell the matches. Her clothes were old and well worn, and she was
not clean. But she thought that someone was bound to buy the matches
during the Christmas season. She was ready to go, and she walked
quickly down the alley and then up the street a block to where the
beautiful store fronts were. Hope would usually wait until early in
the morning before everyone was up, so that she could walk up to the
store windows and peer into the windows and look at the splendid
dresses, fashionable hats, and sleek gloves. How she wished that she
had a hat. It was cold outside with the elements lacking pity on a
girl without a home.

Today
she was looking in the same store windows during the rush of midday.
She saw woman coming out of the store with mountains of packages. She
spotted a mother with a child, and strengthened by her thought of her
own mother, she approached the mother and child.

“Matches
for sale, matches,” she found her voice saying. “Would you like
to buy some matches?”

“What?
No, I don’t want any.” The woman hurried off clutching her
child.

Hope
was disappointed, but there were lots of people to ask, and she
continued to walk along the busy street. Then she spied a bell ringer
in front of a beautiful store which had flags flying on top of the
gray concrete roof. The bell rang in quick notes like a jumping
spider which crawled out of the corner of a home because it felt
vibrations of its occupants.

A
grand tree graced the front of the store’s entrance. Its fresh
piney flavor made her hungry and it would be hours before the soup
kitchen would open. The decorations on the tree shined; reflecting
the morning sun’s low angle on the shortest day of the year. She
remembered how wonderful it was when she was very little and Mommy
and Daddy were alive, and she opened presents with them on Christmas.
Oh, how happy she was then.

Someone
bumped into her, and she remembered the matches. The man was tall and
she did not catch his eyes rather they looked past her as if she were
not there. Then she was bumped again on the crowded corner, and she
dropped her matches on the ground. She panicked. Frantically, she
searched for the matches. They were all over the ground. She picked
up one, then two and then as many as she could. She had picked up
most of them, and she realized she had better try to sell them.

“Matches
for sale!” She now was shouting out to anyone who might listen.
“Matches!”

A
woman walked by pushing a stroller. Hope straightened up like her
Mother had told her girls should, and asked, “Will you buy my
matches for a dollar?”

The
woman, dressed in dark slacks, wool coat and black boots turned to
her. The baby in the stroller was asleep with a warm blanket tucked
around him. “Oh, no.”

Hope
continued her quest. “Matches! Matches for sale!”

An
elderly couple walked by.

“Won’t
you buy my matches?”

They
shook their heads no, staring at Hope and her shabby clothes. Another
couple was in a hurry so they ran past her. A man crossed the street
rather than have her ask him to buy a match. People walked by her.
Bump, bump, bump she felt as the streets became crowded at the lunch
hour. But nobody stopped.

“Please,
Sir, please, will you buy a match?” Hope asked as a man as he
bumped into her.

He
didn’t stop. No one was interested in a girl selling a match. They
wanted to adorn themselves in new sweaters and coats and things that
were lovely. Hope walked to another street corner because she might
have better luck. The anthem of “matches for sale” had no
listeners. By now the day was gone and Hope had not sold any matches.

She
headed to the dumpster. It was colder as the sun was setting. Hope
was always frightened to go to back to the alley in the darkness.
Deep purple hung against the clouds which rolled into the sky as the
sun went sliding down to reach another side of the horizon. She felt
a paralyzing fear reach across the alley and coax her to join it in
the dumpster area. She rubbed her arms with her uncovered hands to
warm herself and the fear fled down another dark spot and away from
her. She crawled around the side of the dumpster and squeezed behind
it as the wind blew a forceful gale around the alley.

After
she crawled behind the dumpster, she lay curled up like a small
animal; she was tired and cold that she thought only of sleep. She
wished she had gloves and a hat. Hope put her hands in her pocket and
her fingers felt the matches. She took out the matches and looked at
it. The slender feel made her think of her Mother who was thin and
tall. She thought of how warm it was to be against her Mother’s
cheek. Hope had no one to hold her and no way to become warm. Then
the thought of the match’s warmth delighted her. She used her numb
fingers to strike the match against the box which had contained it.
The smoke filtered up through the cold air as the strike lit the
match. It was so warm, it startled her. Oh, it was so warm! The merry
flame danced for her and she was warm and her eyes were filled with
the enchantment of its light. How enjoyable was the minute she
watched its light. It had burned the wood to her very fingers before
she blew it out.

She
was tempted to light another, but she remembered that in the morning
she would need to sell something. She closed her eyes and fell
asleep. Soon she entered into her dreams, and in them she saw her
Mother. It seemed so real. Her Mother was tucking Hope into bed.
Hope’s Mom gave her a sock puppet show that made her laugh and
giggle. Her Mom was so funny. When her Mommy was done with the story,
Hope begged for one more story, one more! Don’t leave Mommy! One
more! Don’t leave! But her Mommy said it was time for sleep. Hope
needed to sleep. Hope obeyed, and pulled the covers near her chin. It
was warm and cozy. The morning light made her awake and Hope did not
want her dream of her Mother to end. This morning was surprising,
however. When Hope awoke, she found there was a blanket covering her.
Hope couldn’t believe it was real. But truly it was a warm blanket.
It smelled of newness not of a trash can and she delighted in the
blanket, pulling it around her tightly. Soon her stomach made her
willing to give up the blanket’s warmth for breakfast food. She
folded the blanket and placed her shoe box on top.

After
she had eaten at the soup kitchen, she went on looking to sell her
matches.

“Matches
for sale! Matches! Won’t anybody buy a match?”

The
city was loud with cars rumbling down the boulevard and truck motors
humming at the red lights as Hope watched them pass.

Hope
walked up and down looking for someone to buy her matches. Nobody
cared to buy a match. All of the walking made her very tired. The day
was nearly done. She soon returned to the dumpster, and to her
delight, the wool blanket was still there.

She
lit a match, the utter warmth and grace of the teardrop of fire made
her feel a complete happiness if only for the moment it burned. When
the match burned out, she fell into a deep sleep.

The
next day was similar to the last except the shelter had a roast beef
dinner and Hope ate two helpings. The jovial atmosphere made her
stare at the tree in its dress-up clothes of ornaments and tinsel.

As
she left the shelter to walk to her dumpster, she felt chilled as she
walked through the darkest night. She turned the corner of the main
street and ran to her hiding spot. Hope fell asleep quickly thanks to
the big meal. She dreamed a sweet dream of fire, matches, and
Christmas.

The
little girl in her dream was in a warm bed, and she could hear a
garbage truck coming up the street. Oh how the girl wanted to see the
garbage truck! How exciting to see the big truck rumble up the
street! The girl ran out of her warm bed, down the cold hallway to
look out the window to see the garbage truck. It was extremely cold
out of bed, but she wanted to see the garbage truck. The truck would
be big and the engine would ‘beep’ as it backed up to collect the
garbage.

The
sound floated from her dream into her ears. With a jolt, Hope woke
up. She backed away from the truck in front of her. The dumpster was
hanging above her and the garbage truck was very close to her. Fear
took over, and Hope ran away, ran down the alley further, away from
the truck. As she ran, matches fell out of her pocket. To her
surprise, the alley was empty. There wasn’t even one more homeless
person there. Hope had always avoided the deepest part of the alley.
She felt safer under the dumpster. Hope realized that she had no
blanket now. It was colder than Hope had ever remembered. The moon
was high in the sky and the stars shone brightly. The North Star
stood out among his brother stars; the proudest one of all. It was
beautiful to behold. Hope shivered. The coldness wrapped around her
and without her shield of the blanket, it mocked her frail flesh.

Maybe
she should go to the shelter she thought. Hope knew that on very cold
nights everyone went there. Once Hope went to the shelter and it
scared her. Some people shouted at themselves. Some people fought and
others drank out of a brown paper bag. She was frightened of the
people there. The alley was empty. She was tired and groggy and she
decided to go back to sleep. She sat in the middle of the alley. It
was bitter cold. Maybe she should go the shelter but she was afraid.
She was sleepy and yet she was too chilled to sleep.

Hope
decided to go back to the pretty storefront on the mains street and
sit there. Soon it would be morning and she might sell her matches.
Her fingers were able to feel them in her pocket and when she shifted
her weight, she could hardly feel her feet. She got up and moved down
to the connecting street. Walking was painful now, and her fingers
were very numb. Hope couldn’t feel her toes. As she walked, she put
her fingers inside her pocket. Then she felt some matches. She was
happy to find them. The buildings were sleeping she thought as she
went passed them in the quiet night. Her breath was visible as she
breathed. The bitter cold stung her cheeks and her long hair was no
protection from its wrath. She still had a few matches. Hope took one
out and lit it. The strike of the red chemicals against the box made
her apprehensive for its warmth. Then she felt the fire of light
against her skin. She felt its glow swallow her for the moment it
burned. Even her feet felt warm while the match remained. Then the
light died and she was cold again. Hope continued to walk.

She
walked and remembered a Christmas morning when she raced from her bed
to the tree in her apartment long ago and delighted in the presents
she saw placed under it.

The
memory made her sorrowful but the thought of her matches and their
warmth made her long to light one. Her numb fingers fished one from
her pocket. The strike of it against the wood produced a flurry of
warmth. She carefully walked with her hands cupped around the match.
Hope reached a store front, and the match had gone out. She sat down
next to the window of the department store. Hope lit another match.
Hope saw her Mommy and Daddy when she closed her eyes. She knew that
they were in heaven with baby Jesus. They were with him and Hope was
glad. Hope wanted to be with them. She lit another match to keep
warm.

It
was frigid; the coldest night Hope had ever felt. She pulled out of
her pocket another match. Hope lit the match. How she wanted to be
there now with them and to be safe and away from the coldness of
life.

The
match went out. Hope would light another. She looked for more
matches, but they were all gone. Panic began to shake her. She looked
in each of her pockets. No more matches. She got up and looked at the
ground in case she dropped one. She ran; retracing her steps to see
if there were any matches that she might have dropped on the ground.
The snow was slippery when she reached the alley and she had to slow
down. She looked at the now empty dumpster. There were no matches
behind it anymore. Her shoe box was gone too and her picture of her
family was taken away from her.

No
matches were left. They had all been lit. She grew frantic as she
emptied her pockets again to search again, hoping for another match.
She had no more matches. No matches.

She
wouldn’t be able to dream without her matches. She was tired
though, too tired to even dream. She should be hungry, but the cold
took away her hunger. She longed to go to sleep and forget the
matches and forget the dream. Her fear left her and she was calm
because she had no more fight left inside. By now Hope was too sleepy
to walk. It was late and she couldn’t move. In her mind she was
very scared.

Then
she remembered something that her Mom had told her, that God loved
her. Hope said a prayer that her parents taught her:

Now
I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should
die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

She
felt very numb, but in her head, she heard her Mom and Dad tell her
soon they would be together again. Hope felt somehow warmer now. Hope
went to sleep.

The
next morning came, and the town was deserted as it was Christmas
morning. Some homeless people walked down the street and back to the
alley were the invisible people lived. They discovered the lifeless
body of a girl. It was Hope.

Shouts
called the other homeless people to view the girl. One man made his
way through the crowd of people. He cried bitterly.

He
had watched over the girl from a distance. He had been the one who
had put his blanket over her two nights ago in the cold of the night.
The child was gone from them now and her light had gone out.

The
others mumbled that someone should say a prayer. The old man wiped
away the tears. His deep voice began to pray:

Now
I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should
die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Write a Review
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
EMcCarthy

William Elliott Kern:
Whew. one telling his story, in the Bar, to his friend, who questions some circumstances that need clarity, The Confusion comes from a man, carrying his dead friend Chappies, while conversing with himself, and Chappies, and his alter ego......a broken mind, not yet forgotten..........The Author ...

Sara Huppman:
My only pet peeve was that there were spelling errors. In one of the last chapters there was a mistake it said Melanie handed the hanky back to Chrystal. It was supposed to be Jess. Great book great plot. Didn't need some of the references to modern day culture like the line about frozen. If ther...

Christopher Calvo:
Truly a wonderful read and very well written! Love the characters and character development, and can smell the frybread as I read it! Can't wait for more as we delve into the Buffalo Summer.

David Ramati:
I can easily identify with the characters as having gone through those terrible times myself. The writer has skillfully brought yet another side of those days to life. A good read which I recommend to everyone.

William Elliott Kern:
Hi Jan, sorry it took so long...but good ...read up to chapter 10. The story is a good Jan, but suggest that you try reading your Story or Stories out loud, this will help you edit your work, check your grammar and punctuation, and tell you if you are on the right track for your story and plot.....

Ariel:
First book from the Author I've read, and am extremely impressed and very much satisfied that this story was a short-story, yet, filled with great writing, fantastic characters, and all I'd like is more, please. Malice, she is my favorite!!

Hayley:
Beautiful story that has been well written. Something I will definitely read again. I loved how you could feel the tension between them and I loved the ending because It left it open to our imagination. I look forward to seeing to reading further stories by the same author.

Deidre L. Swain:
I understood where the story was going but the writing skills were lacking a lot. There are some places that had no flow. The plot was good which is what kept me reading the whole story. I think the author shows promise. They just need to tighten up on their skills to really get it going

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